


Memorial

by FHC_Lynn



Series: Broken Windows [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 14:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3981841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FHC_Lynn/pseuds/FHC_Lynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grapple could always say he tried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memorial

**Author's Note:**

> Short piece written for the tf_rare_pairing community for the prompt: Grapple/Sunstreaker - creating.

"I never wanted this," Grapple mourned quietly. In his nervous hands, the plasfilm on the table crinkled. Hoist had left for his duty shift with Ratchet, or Grapple would still be venting his radiator at his oldest friend. Instead, he stood in the empty dispensery hall, at the unholy hour of local predawn. He had a sketch stylus caught between the fingers of one hand and a set of heavily marked plasfilm sheets spread on the table before him.

He would have to leave shortly; the riffraff would pack in, soon. Grapple rubbed his face with his empty hand. He also needed to recharge.

"They conned you into helping Wheeljack build his latest, huh?"

Grapple tripped trying to spin around to face the speaker. Sunstreaker's hand caught his elbow, all too tightly, and forced Grapple's tired body to stay upright. And away from Sunstreaker's precious finish. "Sunstreaker! What are you doing here? Let me go!"

"Fine." Sunstreaker snorted irritably and let go. He took an abrupt step back as Grapple snatched at him for balance. Grapple missed but he snagged one of the low, wide-backed chairs meant for the majority of the Ark's crew. Sunstreaker growled, "It's the fraggin' mess hall. I can get fuel, can't I?"

Grinding his denta together, Grapple shot a brief _look_ at the uppity warrior. Then Grapple turned back to the plans of his miserable task. "Well, yes. You can. And yes, I have a joint project with Wheeljack. Don't worry, I was just leaving."

Sunstreaker watched him shuffle the plasfilm all together in silence. The mech had already seen, but Grapple had no doubt a mech of Sunstreaker's lowbrow standing didn't know what all the squiggles, notes and angry glyphs across the plasfilm meant. Grapple fumbled past the scowling cretin, with his arms full of project torment, and left the hall.

Grapple had to recharge, anyway.

"You dropped this." Sunstreaker had one of Grapple's blueprints in his hands. He had unrolled the thing to look inside. Grapple didn't understand the nosiness of some mechs. He understood Sunstreaker's thoughtful expression less. "You designed the New Iacon Art Gallery, didn't you?"

Grapple stopped, hand outstretched, the rest of his plasfilms precariously balanced. He looked up at Sunstreaker's face. How would the mech have known _that_?

Sunstreaker placed the plasfilm on the table Grapple had used neatly. "That's the same cornice scrollwork. Sort of. Working the donor's name into the folds was clever. Why would you wanna put somethin' that nice on a chassis for Wheeljack's latest gizmo?"

"I--how did you--" Grapple stared up at the strange creature wearing Sunstreaker's face. "I wanted to create again. I...miss it."

Sunstreaker looked down at the heavily marked up design. Gently, he rolled it up and stuffed it into Grapple's arms with the rest. Finally, Sunstreaker said finally, "We're at war. It's a time to destroy. Not create."

"But I'm an artist! It's all I ever wanted to do!" Grapple responded, ignoring the desperation seeping into his voice.

The warrior looked down at him with the most peculiar expression. "Fighting the turn of things is just going to give them an edge to bust your self-respect with. Give up. It'll be easier."

"i can't! I can't give up," Grapple whispered. "And what would _you_ know about it? You were gladiators! You two might as well have started this!"

Contrary to Grapple's expectations, Sunstreaker took a hard step back. The mech's optics narrowed dangerously, and suddenly Grapple remembered this particular mech's reputation. Grapple shut his mouth, then looked down at his collection of plasfilm. He watched, wincing, as Sunstreaker's hand entered his field of vision to point at the plans. "These will break you. Wishing for the past won't bring it back. You give Wheeljack a structure that won't bowl over in the wind, no more, no less, and you won't hurt as bad when it gets blown."

"What would _you_ know about it?" Grapple repeated demandingly.

"'Cause my work collection was on display in that rust-taken gallery when _it_ was blown, you fraggin' pompous junk heap. You ain't the only one misses what can't be had. So you just shove it up your backside and _rotate_ on it," Sunstreaker snapped. Then the warrior shoved past Grapple, leaving the one-time architect open-mouthed with shock.

Grapple looked down at his plans. He remembered the gallery. Not his greatest work, but it had been a kind of special place. Art meant to showcase itself. And all gone now, as Sunstreaker had reminded him. Closing his optics, he swallowed. Sunstreaker's work, hmm? Gone, like his own. His loss had left him bitter; it would certainly explain Sunstreaker. Grapple opened his optics and stared at the open archway.

He couldn't fathom giving up on creating. It was the cleanest joy Grapple had found. He looked down at his plans. Memory slowly turned into thought. Grapple shook himself and rushed out of the dispensery hall. He still had to recharge.

A week later, Grapple had discarded the beautiful, elaborate designs Sunstreaker had seen. He had noticed Sunstreaker's sidelong look, during the reveal, and he had looked away. He had thought a lot about what the warrior had said. Wheeljack, at least, had been pleased.

Grapple tapped his fingers against his personal datapad as the little reception cleared. As their strongest warriors, Wheeljack had wanted the twins there; the engineer wanted them to go out with the device. Grapple watched Sunstreaker. The smug mech stood, to follow his twin out, and Grapple ran out of time to dither.

"Sunstreaker!" Grapple broke away from the startled Hoist with a pat to his friend's side. As Grapple approached, he watched Sideswipe look at Sunstreaker. The yellow twin put a hand on the red's elbow and pushed him toward the exit, and Grapple waited until Sideswipe had left to take the last few steps closer. The crowd had nearly dispersed. Grapple wasn't going to find a better time. Warily, he began, "Sunstreaker. I wanted... I wanted to talk to you."

"Fine. Talk." Sunstreaker glared down at Grapple, all chest and menace, amd Grapple vented. If it hadn't been for Hoist, Grapple knew he would have been no better. Hoist understood. Had Sideswipe?

"I... I must admit, I never noticed others' art," Grapple said softly, looking up at the warrior. The war had done so much damage. Lives upon lives, even if the body sometimes survived. "And I... I don't know how to say this. I am not giving up. And you shouldn't have, Sunstreaker. For everything they destroy, we should make two more. Art...art is the expression of life."

"You can't live in a bubble." Sunstreaker folded his arms across his chest.

"You shouldn't," Grapple insisted. Greatly daring, he put a hand on Sunstreaker's folded arms. "Yes, I gave Wheeljack a simpler design. Because it was more suited to the task. I will create again. And you should, too. Not to replace the lost, but to commemorate it, and to reflect the move forward. I know I don't matter to you. I wasn't even bothered to remember _your_ work. That is on me. But don't let the loss take everything else you might have done from you."

Sunstreaker glared down him, clearly thinking. Just when Grapple dared to hope, the warrior unfolded and shoved him away. "You're a fool."

Grapple vented and watched the warrior walk away. Waving Hoist's concern aside, Grapple turned back to collect his presentation materials. He had tried. That was all he could do.

Months went by, with Grapple always making two designs for all of his projects. One day, he would get to use his skills and build something beautiful again, after the war. His words had not been without effect, although nearly a year passed before the results came in. No one knew how it had gotten there, but when Grapple set optics on it, he had known everything would be all right.

He stood there, in the dispensery hall, smiling softly at the painted sheet metal behind the machines. It wasn't the lost gallery, but the building depicted stood in the rubble that surrounded that lost creation of his, with tiny figures of mecha surrounding it. None of them visibly armed. Grapple turned when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He smiled up at Sunstreaker's scowl.

Everything would be okay.


End file.
